“And I end with ‘a thousand kisses,’” she murmured.

Mme Lerat had shown her approval of each phrase with an emphatic nod.  Her eyes were sparkling; she loved to find herself in the midst of love affairs.  Nay, she was seized with a desire to add some words of her own and, assuming a tender look and cooing like a dove, she suggested: 

“A thousand kisses on thy beautiful eyes.”

“That’s the thing:  ’a thousand kisses on thy beautiful eyes’!” Nana repeated, while the two old ladies assumed a beatified expression.

Zoe was rung for and told to take the letter down to a commissionaire.  She had just been talking with the theater messenger, who had brought her mistress the day’s playbill and rehearsal arrangements, which he had forgotten in the morning.  Nana had this individual ushered in and got him to take the latter to Daguenet on his return.  Then she put questions to him.  Oh yes!  M. Bordenave was very pleased; people had already taken seats for a week to come; Madame had no idea of the number of people who had been asking her address since morning.  When the man had taken his departure Nana announced that at most she would only be out half an hour.  If there were any visitors Zoe would make them wait.  As she spoke the electric bell sounded.  It was a creditor in the shape of the man of whom she jobbed her carriages.  He had settled himself on the bench in the anteroom, and the fellow was free to twiddle his thumbs till night—­there wasn’t the least hurry now.

“Come, buck up!” said Nana, still torpid with laziness and yawning and stretching afresh.  “I ought to be there now!”

Yet she did not budge but kept watching the play of her aunt, who had just announced four aces.  Chin on hand, she grew quite engrossed in it but gave a violent start on hearing three o’clock strike.

“Good God!” she cried roughly.

Then Mme Maloir, who was counting the tricks she had won with her tens and aces, said cheeringly to her in her soft voice: 

“It would be better, dearie, to give up your expedition at once.”

“No, be quick about it,” said Mme Lerat, shuffling the cards.  “I shall take the half-past four o’clock train if you’re back here with the money before four o’clock.”

“Oh, there’ll be no time lost,” she murmured.

Ten minutes after Zoe helped her on with a dress and a hat.  It didn’t matter much if she were badly turned out.  Just as she was about to go downstairs there was a new ring at the bell.  This time it was the charcoal dealer.  Very well, he might keep the livery-stable keeper company—­it would amuse the fellows.  Only, as she dreaded a scene, she crossed the kitchen and made her escape by the back stairs.  She often went that way and in return had only to lift up her flounces.

“When one is a good mother anything’s excusable,” said Mme Maloir sententiously when left alone with Mme Lerat.

“Four kings,” replied this lady, whom the play greatly excited.